Bulldogs chief executive Raelene Castle has gone public with her alopecia areata battle to end misconceptions she had cancer or that the stress of being the only female club boss had forced her to lose her hair.

So much so, Castle hasn't ruled out overseeing all 16 NRL clubs as she refused to distance herself from one day running rugby league.

"Who knows? I just want to make sure I maximise my capabilities," Castle said. "That's quite early given I have only been here for 18 months, but I have been really fortunate to do a couple of jobs in the last eight years which have ticked a couple of big boxes for me."

Castle tells Good Weekend of her ongoing struggle with alopecia areata. The condition is becoming harder to disguise as her baldness edges across her parting line. She sees her hairdresser every six weeks.

"It's not life-threatening," Castle said. "It's important to tell people I don't have cancer.

"I'm now just managing [to cover] it with hairpieces, but there's going to be a stage in the next few weeks when I'm not going to be able to do that.

"It's hard to finish drying your hair and see the bathroom floor covered in it every morning. It's a daily reminder. There are days when it just sucks."

It is something Castle has lived with for a decade, first noticing her hair thinning at 34. It became so talked about in New Zealand that Prime Minister John Key once asked if she had cancer.

Her younger brother Ryan also has alopecia areata. "Why am I so upset at this? It's just vanity, but  for a female, it's more deep-rooted than that," Castle said.

"It's not normal for women to lose their hair. I really don't want people to think it's the job and that stress is making my hair fall out. That's simply not true."

Castle revealed the growing bond she had with a host of the club's players. Kiwis representatives Sam Perrett and Greg Eastwood started to call her Aunty as a mark of respect before the likes of Tony Williams and Frank Pritchard followed.

"They just started quietly among themselves," Castle said. "At first I was horrified. I thought they must be thinking I was 100, but then I realised actually I am old enough to be their mother. It's genuine respect.

"The first six months [in the job] were like drinking out of a fire hydrant. It comes at you at a million miles an hour and you capture a little bit of it and the rest passes by you.

"Then all of a sudden, you wake up one morning and realise you're not drinking out of the fire hydrant any more: you're drinking out of a hose and you can manage. The pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place."